


A Tomorrow After All

by werebird



Series: The Distance of a Year [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Moving On, Post-Break Up, Unhappy Ending, dad louis, slightest hint of hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 18:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5836006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werebird/pseuds/werebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You shouldn't have come here," Harry tells him. "This," Harry gestures between them. "Us. It always ends in a fight."</p>
<p>"Does it always have to?" Louis asks.</p>
<p>"I guess three years just isn't enough time."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tomorrow After All

**Author's Note:**

> I was dared to write some larry. Angst happened.

"You know," Louis starts hesitantly. He's nervous and a little scared. "I still miss you sometimes."

Harry keeps his eyes on his hands, playing with his ring finger. Like he usually does. Like he's always done. 

"I shouldn't have said that," Louis says quietly. Some things are just not meant to be said. 

"No," Harry interrupts. "No, it's okay." He's still not looking up, but he's smiling to himself. "I miss you too. I think some part of me will always miss you."

It's not normal for them, to be sitting together, just the two of them. It used to be normal. It used to be comfort. Now it makes Louis anxious as he feels the awkwardness engulfing them. 

"Can you believe it's almost been three years?" Louis asks. "It doesn't feel like it." And it really doesn't. Not for Louis at least. He still remembers all their little secrets and their big moments, their firsts and their lasts. 

"A lot has happened since then," Harry says and clears his throat. "Too much."

"I keep wondering," Louis mumbles into his collar as he pulls the zipper of his jacket further up. It's typical London weather, windy and it had been raining all day. "Maybe if we'd tried a little harder," he doesn't finish the sentence. He knows it doesn't make any difference. What's in the past, is in the past. 

"Is that why you came here?" Harry asks. "To talk about what-ifs?"

Louis huffs. "If I could fly?"

"But I can't," Harry just says. "And neither can you."

"I'm gonna be a dad," Louis says. It's definitely not the best way to tell your ex about your impending fatherhood, but Louis doesn't know if there even is a good way. "I'm gonna be a dad," Louis repeats, more for himself than for Harry. He still can't wrap his head around the fact that he's going to be a parent.

Next to him, Harry doesn't move, but Louis can hear him breathing. He used to know him better, used to be able to read him better, to know what he was thinking. 

 

"You're going to be great father," Harry says eventually. "I always knew you were going to be a great father."

"You don't sound surprised," Louis tells him. He plays with his fingers, craving a cigarette, but he knows Harry hates the smoking. Maybe he wouldn't even have started if they'd never broken up. Who knows.

"You always wanted kids," Harry just says. "So,-"

"So?" Louis asks. 

"So," Harry starts again. He glances at Louis. "Congratulations."

Louis just nods. "It's not the same, you know," he says. "It's not how we imagined it."

"Nothing is how we imagined it," Harry argues. He's not wrong. 

"Listen," Louis starts. "I just came here to tell you in person. I think you deserved as much." 

Harry stands up and walks a few steps into his yard before he turns around to face Louis who is still sitting on one of the steps of the narrow stairs leading up to Harry's house. 

"This should have been our place," Harry says, looking up at the house in front of them.

"This city was never able to hold you," Louis says. "I was never able to hold you."

"I never just left for LA," Harry reminds him. "I fled to LA."

"London wasn't big enough for the two of us?" Louis asks. He watches Harry still watching the house, in the dark of the night. Warm light pours through the windows, but behind Harry the moon glows in its coldest light. 

"The whole world wasn't big enough," Harry states with a bitter tone. "There was no escape."

"It wasn't any easier for me, you know," Louis says. He buries his hands deep the pockets of his jackets in attempt to keep them warm. "I was stuck here with all the memories."

"You didn't have to stay."

"You didn't have to leave."

Harry runs both his hands through his in frustration. His hair has gotten so long. It's been a while since Louis was allowed to touch it. How he'd loved to play with Harry's curls. And how Harry couldn't wait for them to grow out, to fall down to his shoulders. 

"I've changed," Harry says then. "We both have."

"I know." Louis had watched every little thing change. Had seen Harry's face change as he left puberty behind, had watched Harry's hair grow, his change in clothes and friends. Louis had been silently watching all of it. "I've had to see you almost every day for the past three years, but it was before that I wasn't able to recognize you anymore," Louis adds.

"It wasn't my fault," Harry says. 

"It was my fault for not seeing it earlier," Louis argues. "How much you've changed. How much you wanted to grow. To leave. To make new experiences. With people that weren't me." Louis swallows down the lump in his throat. He hasn't got any tears left. Haven't had for a while. But it still hurts. "I should have let you go before you had to break free."

"Seventeen is just not a good age to settle down," Harry tells him. 

"You could have at least apologized."

"I have nothing to apologize for." Harry's face is set in stone. 

Louis throws his hands up defensively. "I know, I know," he says. "We've been over this a million times. I haven't forgotten."

"You shouldn't have come here," Harry tells him. "This," Harry gestures between them. "Us. It always ends in a fight."

"Does it always have to?" Louis asks.

"I guess three years just isn't enough time."

"How much longer?"

"Try next year," Harry says. 

Louis shakes his head, but gives Harry a tired smile. "See you next year then, Harry." As he stands up to leave Harry calls out to him once more.

"Lou?"

Louis takes a deep breath before facing Harry. "Yeah."

"Good luck. With the baby and all."

"I'll be in LA a lot," Louis tells him. "If you ever change your mind. If you wanna talk or just be angry," Louis laughs. "If you ever wanna fight. Or go over it again. For the one-millionth-and-one time. Just call."

"How come everything has been said and done and yet here we are still not letting it go?" Harry asks. He carefully takes a step towards Louis. "You're going to be a dad, for god's sake."

"I don't think ours was a love anyone would ever get over," Louis replies. "Or let go of."

"Then how come whenever I think of it, it hurts. It does nothing but hurt." Another careful step.

"The higher you fly," Louis starts.

"The further you fall," Harry finishes. 

"And we're not even close to the ground yet." 

"How much longer?" Harry asks. 

"Ask me again next year."

They're closer now. It feels more natural to be close to Harry than to be apart. But things have changed. Harry is three inches taller now and Louis just doesn't do tippy toes anymore.

"How come I miss you the most when you're right in front of me?" Harry whispers.

"We've always had trouble keeping our hands to ourselves," Louis says. His voice is even more rasp than usually. 

"Maybe one day," Harry hesitates and then tries again. "Maybe one day I'll be able to touch you again without it feeling as if my skin is torn off whenever I pull back."

"We could start with a handshake?" Louis suggests and carefully extends his hand. There isn't much room between them and he knows he's shaking a little but it's too late to pull back now. 

"Bye Lou," Harry says and then lays his hand in Louis' palm. 

"See you next year, Harry," Louis breathes. 

They stay in that moment for another heartbeat, before Harry drags his hand out of Louis' grip. He starts to walk past Louis and up the steps leading into his house, when he stops halfway. 

"Maybe one day," Harry says again. He doesn't turn around again, keeps facing the back door. "Maybe one day touching you won't hurt anymore," he says and leaves Louis alone in the cold.

But when Louis looks down at his own hand, he frowns to himself. Because all that is lingering is the residue of warmth, of faint memories and fading what-ifs. 

 

 

 


End file.
